Mutual Understanding
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: McGiva fanfic written for the NFA challenge. Two people from opposite sides of the spectrum if not opposite spectra find a common ground in the middle. My first and possibly only attempt at writing romance. Now complete.
1. The Beginning

**Author Note:** I wrote this as my first ever attempt to write romance, effectively belying my profile where it says I'll never write romance. Please review and tell me if I have actually succeeded. I'm not so sure myself. There's no sex, just the beginnings of a relationship. It's not too long, only eight chapters.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or the characters. Oh the things I could do if I did own them... mmmmm.

**Chapter 1**

"Let's move out!" Gibbs said as he descended from the director's office. "Tony, you're with me. Ziva, you're with McGee."

Ziva tried not to sigh. She supposed she should be glad that Gibbs was finally letting her leave desk duty, but to be paired with McGee? It wasn't that he was a bad guy. She genuinely liked him. He had been the first to really accept her presence. However, it was no secret to anyone that McGee was the least coordinated on their team... unless she wanted to include Palmer who was, amazingly, worse. At least Palmer wasn't supposed to be a field agent. His clumsiness only affected how quickly a dead body got processed. McGee's mistakes could end with an increased body count.

Gibbs eyed Ziva shrewdly. He could see how unenthusiastic she was about her assignment. He said, "Unless you'd rather be stuck on desk duty for the next month, Officer David, you'd better resign yourself. You're stuck with McGee for the next two weeks."

"Why, Gibbs?" Ziva asked. Then, she kicked herself for questioning Gibbs' decision. She knew _exactly_ why she was cursed with McGee.

Chuckling at Ziva's annoyance, Tony answered, ticking the points off on his fingers as he spoke, "Because McGee has never had anyone threaten to sue him for beating up a prisoner. He's never had Iranians come after him. He's never tortured anyone. _And_ he's never been shot. He's hoping it will rub off on you."

Gibbs smacked Tony and then looked at Ziva. "What's your choice, Officer David? McGee or the desk?"

This time, Ziva let out the sigh. "Where's McGee?" she asked resignedly.

"With Abby, of course. They're tracking the money trail. Tony and I will go and check out the lieutenant's home. You and McGee are to head to whatever location the money trail takes you. Report in when you have a definite destination."

"Yes, Gibbs." Reluctantly, Ziva gathered her gear and took the elevator down to Abby's lab.


	2. Annoyance

**Chapter 2**

"Keep on him, Tim. I think we're closing in," Abby said, intent on her monitor.

Tim heard but didn't reply. All his attention was focused on hacking the direction of this money transfer. This case had taken several unexpected twists. At first, they had thought they were dealing with the blackmail of Lieutenant Browne; then, it had taken a more sinister turn when a petty officer had been killed. Tim and Abby had traced email messages to his email account, but when Gibbs and Tony had gone to the location Tim had indicated, all they had found was a man who had been dead for days. Evidence they had gathered there had turned the case onto money laundering with the result that Tim and Abby had been tracking the most recent transfer for the last two days, waiting for the culprit to reconnect and send the money.

"Almost there. We're headed back to the U.S. now," Tim mumbled. He had two levels of thought going on right now. First and foremost, he was tracking the money. However, this brought back memories of the case that had brought him to this team. That Navy Captain who had instigated his own family's kidnaping. It still made him feel ill when he thought about how panicked he'd been while watching the scene unfolding on the train; then, to have the followed by the revelation that a man would put his own family at risk for money. Hopefully, this case wouldn't end up the same way.

"Ooo, he's a sly one. He's just jumped from San Diego to Las Vegas," Abby said, gleefully. She looked up when he heard someone's footsteps. Anticipating Gibbs, she turned, and saw Ziva watching McGee with a look of vague distaste. Abby quickly turned back to her monitor. Tim had told her yesterday he was hoping to get to know Ziva better. To Abby, that meant that Tim liked her, at least in Geek-speak, whether he was aware of it or not. She didn't like the idea in the first place: Tim was _her_ geek, after all. It was worse to see Ziva looking at him that way. She kept telling Tim not to waste his time on her, but he was determined.

"Got it! I got it, Abby! Here he is, in DC, just like we thought." Tim abruptly rejoined the real world and pointed at the little blip on his screen in excitement.

"Let's go, then, McGee."

Tim spun around in surprise. "Ziva! When did you get here?"

"A couple of minutes ago," she said drily. "We're supposed to check out the address. So let's go before he moves on."

"I thought you were still on desk duty," Abby said, suspiciously, annoyed at Ziva's obvious dislike for the assignment.

Ziva stared at Abby, surprised by the animosity in her tone. Tim was as well. "Gibbs said I was done with desk duty. Now, I'm with McGee and we need to go." She turned and walked toward the elevator without another word, leaving Tim to follow.

Tim smiled at Abby. "Well, time to go." He started to leave.

"Tim..."

He turned back. "Don't start, Abby. Ziva's part of the team, too."

Abby gave up. "Oh, just go. Otherwise, Ziva will make you walk."

Tim grinned again. "Bye, Abbs." He ran after Ziva and made into the elevator just before the doors closed.

"Don't even think about driving," Ziva said, staring straight ahead.

"Wouldn't dream of it." At least not if I wanted to walk without a limp, Tim finished silently.


	3. A Mistake?

**Chapter 3**

"Are you sure this is the right address?" Ziva asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. She looked at the mansion under construction. This area was a ritzy suburb of DC, not some warehouse or public internet café.

"This is where the trace ended up," Tim said uncertainly. This brought back worse memories than the kidnaping. This looked too much like the time he'd sent Gibbs to the slumber party.

Ziva sighed.

Stung by her dismissal, Tim stepped past her onto the lot. "This is the place. Let's check it out, although he may be gone by now."

"Fine." Ziva followed him, drawing her gun. "I'll take this floor. You go upstairs. Meet back here in five minutes."

Tim didn't respond. He walked up the wooden stairs. Each room was the same: empty. Most didn't even have walls yet. It was just a maze of studs. Five minutes later, he met Ziva back by the front door.

"Nothing. It isn't even wired yet. How could the trace have been coming from here? How strong would the wireless have to be?"

Tim looked around, a bit bewildered. This was the place. He'd stake his job on it. He just couldn't explain it. "Wait. Did you check the basement?"

"I didn't see a door to a basement."

"Well, there has to be. I saw windows outside that are lower than this level. For structural integrity, they'd probably put it near the other staircase." Tim walked around and started tapping on the wall.

"McGee, this is silly. Just admit that you made a mistake," Ziva said. She just wanted to join up with Gibbs and Tony and do some real work. She was overly antsy from her forced inactivity, and she itched to do _something_. It made her more blunt that she would normally be.

For the first time, Tim looked at her, the hurt apparent on his face, but his voice was hard. "I _didn't_ make a mistake. This is where the signal came from. I can't explain how yet, but this is the place, Ziva." He turned back to the wall and tapped again. "Here! Right here." Tim began to tear down the plywood.

"McGee! We don't have a warrant."

"We have enough evidence to check this place out. No one lives here yet, but we have probable cause." He pulled at the plywood again. "Are you going to help or not?"

Ziva shrugged and holstered her gun. It was better than nothing. With the two of them, one determined to prove he was right and the other desperately wanting to do anything active, the plywood didn't stand a chance.

"Ha! I told you," Tim said as they both looked at the stairs going down into darkness. He pulled out his flashlight and stepped by Ziva. "Coming?" he taunted.

Ziva flushed. "Yes." She drew her gun again as well as her flashlight and followed Tim down into the basement.

"This place is finished. That doesn't make any sense," Tim said, looking at the doors, sheetrock and ceiling. "The rest of the house is not even close to being done. Why would they do the basement?"

"Camouflage?"

"It has to be. We'd better call Gibbs."

"No. Not until we find out if this is another wild goose chase."

Tim covered a smile. Ever since she had figured out that idiom, she found a way to work it into most conversations. He wondered if she even realized that she did it. "Okay. What should we..."

The next few moments seemed to pass in slow motion for Tim while Ziva felt she had no time at all to react. For some reason, she froze when she heard the door open behind her. She turned and then couldn't seem to move at all. She felt dead and couldn't even lift her gun.

Tim, who was standing to the side of the little foyer, saw the man drawing a bead on Ziva, the laser lighting up a point on her forehead. In his mind's eye, he saw Erin lying dead on the floor. He couldn't let someone else die in front of him. In the dim light of the room, he saw the man pulling the trigger.

"No!" he shouted and ran at Ziva, crashing into her and shoving her out of the way of the bullet. He wasn't quite fast enough. He saved her, but the bullet hit him instead. His shout gave way to a scream of pain. The two of them careened into the other door which gave under their combined weight.

Ziva hit the concrete floor, momentarily dazed by the force of the fall. Tim, still high on the adrenaline rush, leapt up and slammed the door closed, bracing himself against it as the man tried to get in. He heard the distinctive sound of gunfire, but the metal door stopped the bullets from getting through.

"Help me, Ziva!" Tim shouted as the door started to slide open.

Ziva quickly shook off her daze and jumped up beside Tim. Her added strength closed the door again. Suddenly, the force on the other side ceased. Then, in the silence, they heard the sounds of chains and of something large being dragged across the floor. More sounds and then, silence. Tim pulled the door handle and tried to open the door. It didn't budge.

"He's locked us in." Tim said. Suddenly, his adrenaline rush faded and a sharp pain flared up in his shoulder. Wordlessly, he slid down the door, leaving a trail of blood.

"Great."

Tim didn't respond. In the darkness, Ziva couldn't see him at all.

"McGee?"

There was a small gasp of pain, and Tim said faintly, "Ziva, I think we have a problem."

"Yes, McGee, we are locked in a little room."

"No... um, I think I'm bleeding."

"What?"

"There's something wrong with my shoulder."

Ziva looked around the room and noticed her flashlight lying forgotten on the ground. She picked it up and swept it around to illuminate Tim leaning against the door. The bloody trail he'd marked as he'd slid down to the ground was painfully obvious.

"What happened, McGee?"

Tim looked dazed and pale as he shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he shot me?"

He had unconsciously grabbed his shoulder, but she could see the blood oozing out through his fingers. That was bad. She knelt by him and pulled his hand away so she could get a look at his shoulder. There was no exit wound. The bullet was lodged somewhere. That was worse. At this point, the best she could do was stop the bleeding.


	4. I'm Not MacGyver

**Chapter 4**

"We need to stop the bleeding, McGee."

"Yeah..." Tim didn't move. She could see he was slipping into shock. That was dangerous. She was not willing to let Tim lie there and bleed to death. Since he seemed unable to help himself, she quickly took off Tim's jacket, then removed his shirt and ripped it into strips, methodically packing the wound and tying it off. Every time she pulled one of the strips tight, Tim moaned, squeezing his eyes closed. Every so often, a single tear escaped and left a grimy trail down his cheek.

For Tim, the world was a haze of agony, centered on the fire burning in his right shoulder. After Ziva finished tying off his wound, he opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him. At least, she was alive. He tried to smile and said softly, "Ow."

Ziva suppressed a smile. That was a bit underwhelming. "Welcome back. What were you thinking, McGee? Why didn't you just shoot him?"

Tim grimaced in pain, but didn't tell her the real reason. He just said quietly, "I couldn't think of anything else. Why didn't you? You had a gun, too."

Ziva didn't answer.

"Well? What do we do now?" Tim asked. "Do you have your phone?"

Ziva pulled it out. The screen was dark. "You must have broken it when you knocked me to the floor. What about yours?"

"Oh, right." Tim winced as he shifted position and pulled out his phone. "It's on, but there's no signal."

"Wonderful. I should have stayed on desk duty." Ziva stood impatiently and started to examine the room. "McGee... look at this." She shone her flashlight over at the corner of the room. It was full of maps, photos, and crates. One of the photos was Lieutenant Browne; another was Petty Officer Greshen. They were only two of a series of photos of military personnel. The maps were of the DC area with annotations around the military bases.

"What's in the crates?" Tim asked. He pushed himself up the wall to a standing position and joined Ziva as she wrestled the top off one. "What is that stuff? I've never seen armor like that before."

"Neither have I. It's not like any I know." She pulled out a vest and searched through it, trying to discern its composition. "Wait! McGee, look at this." She held it up and shone the flashlight on an inside pocket.

"It's wired," Tim said breathlessly. He put out his hand and touched the small electronic device embedded in the fabric. "Wired for what though?" He looked through it and found only the one piece. He looked in the crate and found only other vests. "What about the other crates?"

Ziva shrugged and opened another one. In this crate, there were gloves. Tim picked one up, almost reverently and looked at it. "Wow."

"What, McGee?"

"I've never seen anything like this. It's computerized. I'd guess GPS-enabled and controllable from these gloves."

"What would they control?"

"Do any of the crates have helmets?" he asked.

"I can check." Ziva started to open one of the crates, but stopped and looked back at Tim. His pallor was ashen and he was shaking. "Are you okay, McGee?"

Tim smiled wanly. "I got shot, Ziva. I'm not okay, but I'm upright. That's something, isn't it?"

"Not if you fall over."

Tim brushed aside her concern. "If I sit down, I'm not getting back up. Let's just look at these crates. We need to know what's going on."

"Okay." She opened three other crates. One had helmets, equipped with miniature transparent monitors that flipped down over the eye. Another was full of rifles that were fairly typical, but had a computer chip in the sites that Tim thought was probably connected to the monitor. The other had ammunition, also with computer chips. Tim had no idea what those were for. By the time they finished going through the crates, Tim was trembling with the effort of standing. Ziva noticed that the bandage she'd tied was stained with blood.

"McGee, lean on me. I don't want you to collapse."

"It's not that bad," Tim said, his lie obvious.

"Yes, it is, McGee. Lean on me. I'm going to need you to help us get out of here. Bravado is no good right now."

Tim gave in and sagged against Ziva. His weakness surprised her. "McGee, how bad is it, really?"

Tim sighed and said, "How bad do you think it is, Ziva?"

"Why are you answering my question with another question?"

Tim smiled. "Why not?"

"McGee, do not make me hurt you. There are obviously plenty of weapons in this room, and I am sure I could figure them out."

Tim smiled and then winced. "It's bad. I'm still bleeding, and my shoulder feels like someone jabbed me with a hot poker. I don't suppose you carry aspirin along with your extra weapons? Or maybe morphine? A mallet?"

"Sorry. Those are not on my list of important materials."

"Maybe you should consider adding drugs to the list." Tim paused. "Okay, I think I need to sit down now... or else, you're going to have to support all my weight."

"I'm not already?" Ziva asked, only half-joking.

"No, not yet." Tim started to sag heavily on Ziva's shoulders. "Now, we're getting closer."

"Okay, McGee. Here we go." Gently, Ziva eased Tim down onto the floor and helped him position himself against the wall. "Rest. I will see what we can do to get out of here."

Tim was sweating profusely and gritted his teeth. "I'm not having any brilliant ideas."

"Is there anything you could just put together?"

Tim laughed, but it sounded more like a gasp of pain. "I'm not MacGyver, Ziva."

While she continued to explore the limits of the room, Ziva asked idly, "Who?"

"MacGyver. He was a character on a TV show from the 80s." Tim paused for a deep breath. "He was famous for never carrying a gun and for being able to make anything with only a little Swiss Army knife and duct tape."

"He didn't carry a weapon? Was he stupid?"

"No. He was a genius, and he was a pacifist, although he ironically worked for some black ops kind of company. I always wanted to be him."

"A pacifist?"

"No, a genius." Tim was still shaking. "I'm feeling a little light-headed."

Ziva turned back to Tim. He was looking very pale and the bloodstain was larger than it had been before. The room was sealed, which was a problem since there didn't even appear to be any space for airflow. For now, there was not much to do except wait. Abby knew where they had gone, and when they didn't show up, Gibbs would come and find them. As much as it galled her to wait for rescue, with Tim in that state, they didn't have much chance of getting out on their own. She sighed quietly to herself and sat down next to Tim on the floor.

"This doesn't look good, does it," Tim said softly.

"It isn't that bad. Gibbs will come and find us. Tony may tease us for a few weeks, but at least we will be alive, and if he gets overly annoying, I can just kill him."

"What if that man put the wall back up?"

"You found it. Why would they not be able to?"

"You didn't."

"You're right. I did not." Ziva shone the flashlight over at Tim. His face was pale and sweaty. His arm was obviously still causing him great pain, and he was shivering. He couldn't just stay leaning against a concrete wall. She would never dream of doing this in the normal course of things, but it was a special occasion. Gently, she pulled Tim over until his head was resting in her lap. She was surprised at how natural it felt. He gave a small protest, but had no strength to fight her. "Is that better?"

"Yes, a little. How long do you think it will take Gibbs to get to us?"

"I would guess a couple of hours, but it will depend on when they begin to worry."

"For once, I hope they start worrying fast." Tim tried to shift position slightly and subsided as pain jabbed his shoulder again.

"As do I," Ziva admitted.

Silence descended between them, only broken on the occasions when Tim let out a moan or took a deep breath. Ziva was completely silent, her mind working on ideas to get them out. Tim was not doing well, and she worried that it might take too long to find them. As the time passed, Tim's breathing deepened and he fell asleep. He stirred restlessly, but didn't awaken. Ziva looked at him, shining the flashlight just to the side of his face in order to keep the beam out of his eyes. He was definitely not bad to look at. He looked young, yes, but he was well-built and, even damp with sweat, he had a handsome face. Ziva gave an exasperated smile and shook her head. Why was she even thinking about this? And why, why was she all of sudden wishing that they could be alone longer? A few hours earlier all she had wanted was to be out of Tim's presence, to be doing what she had considered real work. Now, she just wanted to be here with Tim. Although if she were honest, the present situation was less than ideal. She leaned back against the concrete and closed her eyes. She hadn't planned it, but she fell asleep.


	5. Infection and Remedies

**Chapter 5**

The sudden jerky movements brought Ziva out of her sound sleep. She was alert in an instant and looked around for an attacker. Then, she realized that the person who had disturbed her was Tim. His eyes were open and his arms were flailing wildly.

"McGee, what is wrong?"

Tim looked at her, his eyes bright with fever and awash with pain.

Ziva was alarmed. How long had she slept?

"Let me look at your shoulder, McGee. You must have some infection."

Tim sat up and tried to back away. He didn't say a word, but he obviously wasn't seeing her, Ziva realized. She had seen this before. His fever had dulled his mind and he may not trust her.

"McGee, you were shot, remember? I need to look at your injury. I need to see what has happened."

"No. No," Tim said.

"McGee, I will wrestle you to the ground if I have to, but you must let me help you. I will not stand by and watch you die."

Tim showed no sign of having heard her. Instead, he started to slide away. Ziva sighed. This was annoying and delay would serve no purpose. She stood and approached him, warily, as people in fevered states often acted irrationally. Suddenly, she grabbed Tim by the shoulder and pinned one arm to his side. She knelt on the other arm and in spite of his screams of protest, untied the bandage. As she had feared, the skin around Tim's wound was fiery red and looked dangerously infected. The bullet was the problem.

"McGee, I am going to have to remove the bullet. It will hurt, but it must be done. However, I cannot take it out with you moving around."

Tim still struggled against his human restraints. Ziva wracked her brain trying to think of what to do that would not require her to knock Tim out. Finally, she put her hand on his forehead and gently stroked his face.

"Timothy, please, you must calm down."

Amazingly, it seemed to work. Tim stopped thrashing and looked into her eyes. His own still uncomprehending, but no longer so wild. As she bent over his shoulder, his eyes followed her. It was strangely disconcerting.

"Timothy, I am going to have to cut into your shoulder in order to take out the bullet. Are you ready for that?"

Tim stared at her for a long moment and then nodded. Ziva relaxed her hold on his arms and he put one trembling hand up on her shoulder and gripped it tightly. She smiled and pulled out the knife she always carried. Luckily, it was sharp enough to do the job. Hopefully, it was also clean enough. She took a deep breath and Tim tightened his grip. Quickly, she brought the knife down and began to cut into the wound. Tim shrieked in agony and Ziva closed her ears to the sound. His body was a mass of tightened muscles as she probed for the bullet. When she found it and began to extract it, Tim's back arched. He screamed again and passed out. Quickly, Ziva removed the bullet and rebound the wound.

After she finished, she sighed with relief. Tim's pulse was still present, slow and a little shallow, but it was there. She resettled herself on the floor and pulled Tim over to her, laying his head in her lap again. They lay together for uncounted minutes, Tim unconscious and Ziva dozing.

"Hey, how am I doing?" The faint question brought Ziva out of her doze. She looked down at her companion and saw Tim's eyes open, still fever bright, but clear.

"I do not know. You are alive which is what I was hoping."

Tim started to sit up, but then winced and thought better of it. "What happened?"

"I... engaged in battlefield medicine."

Tim's eyes widened. "Really?" He looked at his shoulder. "Where is it?"

"What?"

"The bullet."

"Oh." Ziva swept the flashlight around the floor over the various bloodstains and found it. She pointed it out. "It's there."

Tim's eyes followed the beam. He nodded. "Am I going to pull through?"

"I am not sure," Ziva said without thinking. When she saw the fear on Tim's face, she realized that she should have temporized. "You survived surgery without anesthetic. You should survive laying on the floor for a while longer."

Tim tried to smile. "So, what are we going to talk about?"

"I am sorry?"

Tim swallowed. "What are we going to talk about? I can't just lay here in silence. All I'll be thinking about is whether or not I'm dying yet."

"I see. Then, I will ask you a question."

"Okay."

"Why did you not shoot the man who was going to kill me?"

Tim tried to look away and found himself unable to avoid her gaze. "I froze. Or rather, my mind froze. I-I saw him aiming at you and I remembered..." He closed his eyes. "I remembered a time when I failed."

"What was that time?" Ziva asked.

Tim opened his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"I wish to understand you."

"Why?"

"You do not make sense to me, McGee. I understand Tony. I understand Gibbs. I even understand Abby, at least in part. You, however, are confusing."

"Thanks... I guess."

"So, what happened?"

"It was my first real case under Gibbs. I investigated a murder reported by someone a lot like me. She was..."

"She?" Ziva interrupted, arching her eyebrow.

"Yes, she. Erin. She was good at computers. We seemed to have an instant connection. No one else believed that there had been a murder, but I insisted that we investigate. I was across the street on surveillance. Erin and I talked on the phone." Tim stopped.

"And?"

For a long time, Tim didn't answer. He just lay still, his eyes locked with Ziva's. She saw something in them that she had lost long ago. It was something that she didn't think he could ever lose and still stay who he was.

"The murderer broke into her apartment and killed her. I watched from the window as he attacked her. I ran across the street to stop him, but I was too late and the guy knocked me out. The only thing I could do for her was write a letter to her parents." Tim's eyes flicked away from Ziva and then back. He sighed. "When I saw that man aiming at you, all I could think of was not letting someone else die right in front of me. I only had a few seconds, and I knew that I wouldn't have the time to aim and shoot him before he got a round off. So I ran."

"I see." Ziva watched as a faint blush suffused Tim's face. "I envy you, McGee."

"Why? Because I got shot?" Tim shifted uncomfortably.

"No. I envy you your... I do not know the word for it, perhaps, innocence. You are not a killer. You were not raised to be a killer. I was. I lost my innocence a long time ago. I was taught to kill and in order to do that I had to kill a part of myself. It is a hard thing to lose." Again silence descended, both lost in their own thoughts.


	6. A Direct Approach

**Chapter 6**

"Ziva?"

"What, McGee?"

"Why didn't you shoot him? What happened?"

Now, it was Ziva's turn to look away.

"I mean, I've never seen you freeze. You're so... so capable."

Ziva looked back. "I thought I was about to die," she said slowly, "and I realized that I was not ready for it. In that moment, I froze and I did not have the time to thaw."

Tim was silent. They stared at each other for another long moment.

"Thank you, McGee."

"What for?"

"For saving me."

Tim grinned, a ghost of a smile which faded as another wave of pain washed over him, and said, "Did I surprise you?"

Ziva let out a laugh. "Yes, McGee. You surprised me. I did not think you could move so quickly, and you weigh a lot more than you look."

Tim laughed a little as well, but winced and asked, "You don't think much of me, do you?"

There, in the dim beam of the flashlight, their eyes locked together, Ziva knew that she should lie, but that she couldn't do it well enough to fool Tim.

"As I said before, I do not understand you. Men like you do not become field agents. They become..."

"Computer technicians? Nerds?" Tim asked without rancor.

"Well, yes. Tony was a police officer. Gibbs was a Marine. I am a Mossad officer. But you, McGee, you were a computer geek. You studied how to be an agent through courses, not actual experience. I do not understand what drives you."

"Does respect require understanding?"

"I respect your abilities..."

"Just not in the field," Tim finished grimly. When she didn't disagree, he continued, "Ziva, I can't really explain to you why I chose this path. I can only tell you that, even though you don't think I'm much good, this is the one place that I feel I belong. Everyone needs somewhere like that. NCIS is my place. It defines me."

"But why, McGee? Look at yourself now. You are lying on a cold floor in a sealed room, bleeding, waiting for help. You could be anywhere else and yet you would choose this?"

"Yes, I would. Don't you see, Ziva? Here, I am making a difference. I'm helping people. I am doing something that makes others' lives better. Isn't that what you want?"

Ziva opened her mouth to reply and stopped. She hadn't even thought about _why_ she did these things. She just did them.

"Why do you do what you do, Officer David?"

Ziva started when she heard the formal address. Tim never called her that. She was always Ziva to him. It forced her to speak.

"In the beginning, that is what I wanted. I suppose that I have not thought about such things in a long time. I just do what is required."

"You should think about it more often."

"McGee, why is it that you always call me Ziva?"

Tim blinked in surprise at the question. "Does it bother you? I can stop if it does."

"No, it does not. I just realized that no one calls you Tim and yet, with the exception of Gibbs, you call everyone by their first name. Why?"

"It's how I address people, at least those I consider friends."

"But not Gibbs?"

Tim chuckled. "Not even you call him Jethro. He'd probably kill me or at the least give me a death glare."

"But you consider me a friend?"

"I would like to," Tim said, a little shyly.

"You are intriguing, McGee."

"I guess that's better than being confusing." Tim winced and tried to shift position again. "How long have we been in here? It feels like a long time. Much longer than a few hours."

"I do not know for certain." Ziva looked around the windowless room. "It does feel as though we have been in here at least overnight."

"That's not a good sign. Maybe the fake wall fooled them."

"Perhaps." Suddenly, Ziva was overcome with restlessness. Gently, she eased Tim into a sitting position and began to pace the room.

Tim watched her for a while. She was so different from Abby, the last woman he'd had real feelings for, but there was something that drew him to her. Intriguing was perhaps the right word for it. He had passed it off as mere curiosity, a desire to get to know the people on his team, but he had to admit that there was more to it than that. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and tried to hold in the groan that bubbled up in his throat. Laying down had been more comfortable, but he wasn't about to suggest it.

"Ziva?"

From her position at the door, Ziva answered, "What, McGee?"

"Why don't you ever call me by my first name?"

Ziva turned back with the flashlight and the beam hit Tim right in the eyes. "Sorry, McGee." She moved the beam away. "No one calls you Tim."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I know, but you call Tony by his first name most of the time." He blinked slowly. "I guess I feel kind of like I'm on the outside of everything."

"You have been at NCIS longer than I have."

"I know. That's what makes it all so... annoying. When you first came, I wanted to help you... fit in. I knew how I felt about you and how everyone else felt, and I didn't want to let that keep you from belonging. Imagine how I felt when I realized that you fit in better than I ever could."

"I never knew that."

"It's not something I broadcast to the general public."

Ziva walked over and knelt in front of Tim. She took in his paleness, the shaking that had never quite eased, his blood-soaked jacket. It should have made him seem weaker, less able, but Ziva was surprised to realize that Tim seemed stronger than before.

"...Tim..."

Tim smiled. "I like that, Ziva."

Ziva smiled warmly. "I like it as well, Tim."

"We can't get out of here on our own, can we."

"No."

Tim nodded. "Then, would you mind sitting next to me?"

It was a refreshingly direct approach. None of the innuendo-laden conversation Tony used. Tim was simply earnest. Without answering, Ziva resumed her seat next to Tim, but instead of putting his head in her lap, she leaned his head on her shoulder. She eased her arm around his waist. Tim did the same. She could feel the tremors shaking his body. If they weren't found soon, Tim would probably die. There was no point in bringing it up. What purpose could it serve? Instead, she held him tightly and tried to pretend that she wasn't going to lose another man as soon as she made an emotional connection.

"Would you like to go to dinner sometime?"

Ziva blinked. "What?"

"Would you go out with me, Ziva? To dinner?"

"Yes. I would, Tim."

"Good. Once we're out of here, we can see to the details." Tim sighed and leaned more heavily against her shoulder.

"Does your arm still hurt?"

"Yes."

"Badly?"

"Yes. As long as I don't move, it doesn't hurt as badly."

"Really?"

To her surprise, Tim let out a mirthless chuckle. "No. I keep thinking that if I pretend it will be true."

"Does it work?"

"I'll let you know."

The silence that descended this time was a comfortable one. Two people from opposite sides of the spectrum of life had found a place in the middle to meet. They had forged a connection, not so easily as Tim's had been with Erin, but possibly more lasting... if it had a chance to last.


	7. Rescue

**Chapter 7**

Muffled thumps from outside the room woke Ziva from her dozing.

"Tim! I think they're here!"

Tim did not stir.

"Tim!" Ziva suddenly noticed that Tim was no longer shaking. He was still. Too still. The noises from above forgotten. She lay Tim down on the floor and began to check him. His heart was beating. She almost broke down in tears when she felt his heart. His breathing was very shallow. "They are here, Tim. I will not let you die now. Do you hear me? You will _not_ die in front of me, not when help is so close."

Ziva stood and walked to the door. She began pounding and shouting. She pulled out her gun and pounded on the door. She heard the muffled thumps, footsteps moving with more urgency now. They had heard her!

"Gibbs!" Ziva shouted. She belatedly considered the possibility that the man had returned to kill them both. At this point, she would prefer a shootout to sitting and waiting. Sitting and waiting for Tim to die.

The chain rattled against the door. Ziva backed up and aimed at the door, waiting for it to swing open.

"Ziva!" Before the door opened, she heard Tony's voice.

"Tony! Open the door! Get us out of here!"

"Sure thing!" The door opened; Ziva was so relieved to see Tony and Gibbs standing there, that she momentarily forgot Tim laying on the floor. Then, with the bloodstains on the door illuminated by the dimly lit foyer, her companion surged to the forefront of her mind.

"Call an ambulance. Tim was shot in the shoulder. I removed the bullet, but he is desperate need of medical assistance." She said it dispassionately, but some of the force of the emotion behind her words leaked out. Tony took one glance over her shoulder and ran upstairs to use his cell phone. Gibbs slid past her and went to Tim.

"What happened, Ziva?" he asked as he assessed Tim's state. His face was grave.

"We were checking out the address Tim and Abby found. Tim found the basement access and we came down to check it out. A man was down here and nearly shot me. Tim tried to push me out of the way. We managed to keep him from getting into the room, but then he must have decided to just lock us in and leave us to die. The bullet from his shoulder is over there," she pointed, "but Tim needs more than I could do."

"The ambulance is on the way," Tony said, breathless from his run up and down the stairs.

"How did you find us?"

"We came here about three times because Abby kept insisting that was where you had gone. Your car wasn't here, and we had an anonymous tip that you two had been seen being forced into a car yesterday evening. Obviously, a false clue."

"Obviously."

Tim stirred slightly and moaned. His eyelids fluttered and looked toward Ziva who was right next to him. "Did we make it?" he asked thickly.

"Yes, Tim. We did."

"Good."

The sirens could be heard faintly as the ambulance approached.

"I don't feel very good."

"I'm sure of that, McGee," Gibbs commented.

Tim's eyes shifted from Ziva to Gibbs. "Boss. Did you see the stuff in the crates?"

"Later, McGee."

"Okay. What day is it?"

"We've been here for nearly two days, Tim," Ziva said.

"No wonder I'm so thirsty." Tim reached out blindly with his hand. Ziva took it without hesitation. If Tony or Gibbs saw anything in the action, they didn't comment. When the EMTs arrived, they took Tim away quickly, but before they loaded Tim onto the ambulance, he reached out to Ziva again.

"What, Tim?"

"Remember what you said."

She smiled. "I remember."

"Talk to you later?"

"Yes." She let go of his hand and watched as the ambulance sped away. Tony touched her hesitantly on the shoulder. She turned and silently followed him to the car. Gibbs watched, equally silent, as she left. It looked as though Rule 12 was about to be broken again.


	8. The Date

**Chapter 8**

The next week, Ziva sat in her apartment waiting impatiently. She stood and paced; then, sat down again, only to start pacing two seconds later. She walked to the bathroom and checked herself out in the mirror for the fifth time. Even she had to admit that she looked good. It had taken hours, but she was satisfied with the result. Her hair was freely flowing, and her dress was flattering to say the least. She smiled. This ought to get Tim's attention. Finally, the doorbell rang. She forced herself to walk demurely to the door. As she looked through the peephole, she laughed at Tim's obvious nervousness. They had set up this date while he was still laying in the hospital. No doubt he was worrying that she had second thoughts. She opened the door.

"Hello, Tim."

Tim's jaw dropped open and for a few seconds, he couldn't get any words out.

"How are you doing, Tim?" she asked wryly.

"Fine. You, you look... wow. You look great." Tim was captivated.

"Thank you. You are not so bad yourself." His arm was still in a sling, but Tim was dressed in a snazzy suit and in spite of his fidgeting, looked good.

"Thanks. Um, are you ready?"

"Do I not look ready?"

"Oh, yeah." Tim cleared his throat. "Yes, you look ready."

"Tim?"

"Yes?"

"Relax."

Tim took a deep breath and smiled. "I kept expecting you to call and back out." He grimaced. "Abby said I was crazy."

Ziva smiled. "Abby is just jealous that you asked me. I would never back out." She hesitated and then admitted, "I have been looking forward to this all week."

"So have I." Tim hesitated as well, and then leaned in and kissed Ziva on the cheek. He blushed as he stood back and said, "Shall we go?" He held out his arm.

Ziva took his arm. "Yes."

As they walked out to Tim's car, Ziva stopped suddenly.

"Did you forget something?" Tim asked.

"Yes."

"What?"

Ziva moved closer to Tim. "This." She kissed him deeply on the lips.

"Wow," Tim breathed as they broke apart. He stared into her eyes. "Ziva?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"I wouldn't trade what happened last week for the world."

"Not even getting shot and almost dying?" she asked playfully.

"Not even that," Tim said as they continued to his car.

"Neither would I."


End file.
